No One Like Her
by GraceCouncil
Summary: Sherlock Holmes doesn't have friends. He has one,Caroline Agnès. He and Caroline have know each other since they were five. Sherlock has grown comfortable with her, which he can't say for anybody else. John thinks it's strange. How this cruel and sarcastic man will complete do a 180 with personality when she's near?
1. Study in Pink: Part 1

A/N:

Hi, new to writing Fanfiction so I thought I would give it a go on one of my favorite Television shows, Sherlock. This is a Sherlock/OC story so bear with me. I hope I can fit her into the show without making it seem like she's Mary Sue. I've done that once or twice before.

The Sherlock in my story will be slightly (when I say slightly I do mean slightly. I do not want to change him too much) different than he is in the show. My OC is a long time friend of Sherlock's so he more relaxed around her. I'll try to keep Sherlock as original as I can to the show.

~00~ = a page break

(I obviously do not own or have anything to do with the production of Sherlock or Sherlock Holmes would obviously wear more purple and that hat more often)

All right! Onto the show!

~00~

"The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore." Donavan says, "In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now."

"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?" A male reporter with long hair asked

"Well, they all took the same poison," Lestrade told the reporter, "they were all found in places they had no reason to be, none of them had shown any prior indication of-"

The reporter interrupted him, "But you can't have serial suicides."

"Well, apparently you _can_." Lestrade fired back

"These three people, there's nothing that links them?" Another reporter asked

"There's no link been found _yet_, but we're looking for it. There has to _be_ one." Lestrade said

As soon as Detective Lestrade finished his sentence a number of cell phone dings went off, everyone in the room had got the same text.

_**Wrong!**_

"If you've all got texts, please ignore them." Donavan tensed as she said

"Just says, 'Wrong'." The first reporter replied

"Yeah, well, just ignore that." Donavan told them, "Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end."

"As I say, these ... these suicides are _clearly_ linked. Um, it's an, it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating-"

The cell phone ding cut off Detective Lestrade again.

_**Wrong!**_

Everyone had gotten the same text again.

"Says, 'Wrong' again." The first reporter stated

Lestrade and Donavan exchanged looks of desperation,

"One more question." Donavan told the reporters

"Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?" A female reporter asked

Lestrade sighed, "I know that you like writing about these, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The poison was _clearly_ self-administered."

The female reporter pressed on, "Yes, but if they _are_ murders, how do people keep themselves safe?"

Lestrade was getting frustrated, "Well, don't commit suicide."

Donavan covered her mouth and whispered to him a warning, "Daily Mail."

Lestrade grimaced and turned his attention back to the reporters, "Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be."

The phones all went off again, the same text appearing as the last times. But Lestrade had gotten a different one.

_**You know where**_

_**to find me.**_

_**SH**_

Lestrade was annoyed as he put his phone into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you" He murmured as he stood up and left the room.

Donavan quickly caught up with him as he walked through the offices of their work pace, The New Scotland Yard.

"You've _got_ to stop him doing that. He's making us look like idiots." She griped

"Well," Lestrade told her, "if you can tell me _how_ he does it, I'll stop him."

~00~

"How fresh?" Sherlock asked as he unzipped the body bag, the bag held an old man in it.

"Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him. He was nice." Molly Hooper, one of the morgues pathologists, smiled as she told Sherlock, remembering her former co-worker.

Sherlock straightened up and smiled falsely at Molly, "Fine. We'll start with the riding crop."

~00~

Sherlock started to beat at the body with the riding crop ruthlessly. Molly watched through an observing window, a sick look on her face and she watched Sherlock. She felt as if she were going to get sick.

~00~

Molly had walked back into the room when she saw Sherlock had finished

"So, bad day, was it?" She tried to make conversation.

Sherlock ignored her as he took out his notebook and started to right in it, "I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me."

"Listen, I was wondering, maybe later, when you're finished-"

Sherlock looked at her for a moment and did a double take before frowning at her.

"Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before."

"I, er, I refreshed it a bit." Molly replied nervously, she smiled at him.

Sherlock looked at her for a second, "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was wondering if you'd-" Molly was cut of once again, but this time not by Sherlock, but his phone.

Sherlock put his notebook away and pulled out his phone, it was a text.

_**Call me,**_

_**traffics boring**_

_**CA**_

Molly saw a ghost of a smile on his face as he put his phone away.

"You were saying?" Sherlock asked

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee." Molly said quickly, before she could be interrupted again.

"Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs."

Sherlock walked away without another word to Molly.

"Ok…" She replied but Sherlock was already in a hurry up the steps.

~00~

Sherlock stands in the lab, squeezing the a few drops of what was in the pipette into a Petri dish.

There was a knock on the door and Mike came walking in, John Watson limping in behind him.

Sherlock quickly glanced at Mike and saw that he had no bulge that would mark a cell phone in his pocket. Good, this would work out perfectly.

"Well, bit different from my day." John said as he had a quick glance around the place.

Mike chuckled, "You have no idea."

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There is no signal on mine." Sherlock asked as he sat down.

"And what's wrong with the land line?" Mike asked

Sherlock shook his head, "I prefer to text."

"Sorry, it's in my coat." Mike said. Not soon after John took his out.

"Here, use mine."

"Thank you." Sherlock said, he looked at Mike for and walks toward John.

"It's an old friend of mine." Mike said as Sherlock took the phone from John.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked. John frowned and looked at Mike who gave no explanation; he only smiled at John and Sherlock.

"Sorry?" John asked, in shock

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock looked at John briefly before he went back to texting. John looks over at Mike once more.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know-" John was cut off once Molly entered the room with the coffee.

"Ah, Molly, drinks. Thank you." Sherlock turned off Johns phone and handed it back to him as Molly brought the drinks to him.

He grabbed the coffee and set it down on the table next to him, he turned back at her. There was something different about her from last time.

"What happened to the lipstick?" He asked

Molly smiled awkwardly at him, "It wasn't working for me."

"Really?" Sherlock told her, "I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now."

He turned around and grabbed one mug, grimacing at the taste. It wasn't as good as when _she_ made it.

"….Okay." Molly said. She then turned and walked out of the room, annoyed at Sherlock.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked John

"I'm sorry, what?" John said when he realized Sherlock was talking to him.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end," Sherlock put the cup down and looked at John, "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He smiled falsely at John when he finished talking.

John looked at Sherlock briefly before looking at Mike.

"Oh, you told him about me?" John asked Mike

"Not a word." Mike told John

John turned to Sherlock again, "Then who said anything about flatmates?"

"_I_ did." He replied, picking up his greatcoat and scarf, putting them on, "Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap."

"How _did_ you know about Afghanistan?" John asked him incredulously.

But Sherlock just ignored the question, picked up his cell phone and checked it. He had 10 minutes left, he couldn't waste anymore time here.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it." He walks past John, making his exit. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry, gotta dash. I'm meeting up with somebody."

Putting his phone to his ear, he walks past John and begins to talk into the phone.

"Is that it?" John asked. Sherlock murmured into the phone once more before turning back to John.

"Is that what?" Sherlock replied, annoyed. He needed to leave now.

"We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?" John asked in disbelief.

"Problem?" Sherlock said. John looked over at Mike in disbelief, who offered no help. Only smiling smugly at both of them.

"We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your name." John reasoned

Sherlock looked over John for a moment before speaking, "I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him – possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid."

John looks down at his leg and shuffles them, embarrassed.

"That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Sherlock replied before making his way to the door again. He stopped before he was completely out of the room.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." He says before he bids his goodbye and exits the room quickly.

~00~

John made his way down Baker Street to get to 221B Baker Street. As he got to 221B, Sherlock stepped out of a cab.

"Hello." Sherlock greeted before he handing the cabbie some money.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes." John said as he walked over towards Sherlock.

"Sherlock, please." They shook hands before both turning to the door.

"Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive." John said

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal." Sherlock explained, "Owes me a favor. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out."

"Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?"

"Oh no. I ensured it." Sherlock explained as Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson said as she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

"Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock replied, returning the hug briefly and stepped out of it to introduce John.

"Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson."

"Hello," She opened the door further and invited them inside, "Come in."

John thanked her and went inside.

"Shall we?" Asked Sherlock as Mrs. Hudson opened the door to their flat, allowing them in.

The room was cluttered with boxes and books. John glanced at the skull on the mantel and nodded.

"Well this could be very nice," John said as he went to walk around the flat more, "Very nice indeed."

"Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely." Sherlock replied

"So I went straight ahead and moved in."

"Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out."

They both said at the same time. Both embarrassing themselves.

"So this is all-" John started

"Well, obviously I can, um," Sherlock moved to straighten things up, throwing folders into a box and closing a book and tossing it into a chair. "Straighten things up a bit."

The skull on the mantel caught Johns eye, "That's a skull."

"Friend of mine. When I say 'friend'-" Sherlock started

"He means I made it for him." A voice cut in. Sherlock and John turned to the voice and saw it was a woman.

She was taller than average height, with chest length orange hair. She was wearing a black hoodie with dark jeans and grey Chuck Taylors. She had a large duffle bag on her shoulder and a small suitcase next to her.

"Who are you?" John asked.

"This is Caroline Agnès. She's going to be staying with us for a couple weeks until she gets a flat." Sherlock told John

Caroline stuck out her hand. "It's nice to meet you." John took her hand and shook it.

"Hello," he greeted, "How did you make the skull? It looks very life like."

"I made it with clay, it took me all day to shape and engrave. Pottery is just a hobby of mine. Excuse me." Caroline said as she dropped her duffle bag and walked into the expecting arms of Sherlock.

"Oh I missed you," Caroline said, "I haven't seen you in forever."

"It's only been six months." Sherlock reminded her. 

"Still to long." She replied as she stepped out of the hug. "I'm going to go get settled, which one is your room again?"

Sherlock pointed to the room through the kitchen and she picked up her bag and dragged her suitcase in the direction.

"Hello Caroline dear." Mrs. Hudson said as she saw Caroline pass.

"Hello." She replied, going into the room and shutting the door.

"What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be _needing_ two bedrooms." Mrs. Hudson said

"Of _course_ we'll be needing two." John replied. What was this woman implying?

"Oh, don't worry; there's all sorts round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones."

John looked over at Sherlock for help only to find that Sherlock was oblivious, staring at his bedroom door.

Mrs. Hudson frowned as she looked to the kitchen, "Oh, Sherlock. The mess you've made."

As soon as she finished talking Caroline popped her head out the door, "Don't worry Mrs. Hudson. I'll get it."

Poor Mrs. Hudson cried out in fright, "Don't scare me like that Caroline."

Caroline laughed as she stepped out of the bedroom and made her way into the kitchen.

"Sherlock," Caroline called out as she picked up a test tube, "is there any experiments I should know about?"

"No." He said as Mrs. Hudson went to help Caroline.

"I looked you up on the internet last night." John said as he sat down in a chair in the living room.

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock turned to face John.

"Found your website, The Science of Deduction."

Sherlock smiled proudly, "What did you think?"

John looked at Sherlock for a long time, "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airplane pilot by his left thumb."

Sherlock smiled smugly, "Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone."

"How?" John asked. But Sherlock gave him no answer as he smiled and turned away.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson said as she read the paper, "I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same."

"Four." Sherlock said he looked out the window. A police car had pulled up in front of the flat.

"There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time." Sherlock said.

"A fourth?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

Sherlock turned and saw Detective Lestrade coming up the staircase.

"Where?" Sherlock asked

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different."

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did. Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?"

"It's Anderson."

Sherlock grimaced at the mention of the name, "Anderson won't work with me."

"Well, he won't be your assistant."

"I _need_ an assistant."

"Will you come?"

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind."

"Thank you." Lestrade looked at John and Mrs. Hudson before his eyes landed on Caroline.

"Hello Carry." Lestrade said, surprised to see her here. "I thought you weren't due back for another year?"

"I missed it here." She simply replied. Lestrade nodded and said goodbye as he walked out the door and back to his police car.

As soon as Lestrade was gone Sherlock jumped into the air and clamped his fist in joy. He picked up Caroline, who was now beside him, and swung her around before he set her down.

"Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" Caroline grabbed his coat as he continued to talk, "Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." She replied

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" He replied as Caroline finished tying his scarf.

"Hey," Caroline said as she grabbed his scarf to pull him down eye level with her, "You be safe and be kind." She saw him roll his eyes.

"I'm serious Sherlock, you may be the smartest man I know but you sure are an idiot when it comes to knowing your place."

"Yes, yes. I'll be safe." Sherlock leaned in and gave her a quick hug goodbye before grabbing a leather pouch on the table and dashing out the door.

"Look at him, dashing about! _My_ husband was just the same." Mrs. Hudson said once Sherlock was gone. "But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell."

John looked more and more uncomfortable the longer Mrs. Hudson talked.

"I'll make you that cuppa. You rest your leg." Mrs. Hudson said

"_Damn_ my leg!" John shouted. Mrs. Hudson and Caroline looked back at him in shock.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing." John trails off and taps his leg with his cane.

"I understand, dear; I've got a hip." Mrs. Hudson said, "Caroline's got a leg too."

John looks at Caroline in shock.

"It's a prosthetic, my knee down on my right leg. I was born with out it so I walk just fine." Caroline explained.

John nodded, "Cup of tea'd be lovely, thank you."

"Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson said

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got 'em."

"Not your housekeeper!" She chided

John looked around the room once more and went to set down in chair, Caroline following in suit, sitting in the chair opposite of him.

"So," John began to make conversation, "you don't do the whole crime scene thing like Sherlock?"

"Oh no, fresh bodies aren't my thing." Caroline told her. John looked at her in shock

"I'm an Forensic Anthropologist. But my job is to help identify bones from wars like World War Two and things like that." Caroline explained. John nodded and they heard a voice by the door.

"You're a doctor. In fact you're an Army doctor." They both turned and saw Sherlock step in once more.

"Yes." John says as he stands up.

"Any good?"

"_Very_ good."

"Seen a lot of injuries, then, violent deaths."

"Mmm, yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet."

"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

"Wanna see some more?"

"Oh _God_, yes." John was excited; he couldn't wait to get started.

Sherlock spun on his heels and leads John out of the room and they make their way down the stairs.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out." John calls as he's making is way down the stairs

"Both of you?" Caroline calls out at the top of the stairs.

Sherlock had almost reached the front door before he turned around and made his way to her, "Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something _fun_ going on!"

Sherlock took her by the shoulders and kisses her on the cheek.

"You are insane, Sherlock. Someone should not be this excited, it's not decent." Caroline said, but she couldn't help but smile with Sherlock.

"Who cares about decent, Ro? The game is on!" Sherlock's voiced raised as he let go of her shoulders in excitement.

Caroline smiled as she watched Sherlock and John walk off before she turned back into the apartment.

"John left too?" Mrs. Hudson asked as Caroline came back in.

"Yes, they both did." Caroline stepped back into the kitchen to help Mrs. Hudson finish making the tea.

"I'll finish up in here and then I'll unpack and start cleaning. You know I won't let him keep it dirty Martha." Caroline smiled at Mrs. Hudson and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you dear. Don't be up for to late dear. You look exhausted. You've been on a plane for hours." Mrs. Hudson chided

"I know," Caroline smiled at her, "Isn't your show on now? The one with the twins?"

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened in sudden remembrance. She bid her goodbye and left the flat. Caroline shook her head and started to tidy the living room, putting books into the bookshelf and leaving Sherlock's work untouched.

She was really happy to be back.

~00~

"Where's John?" Caroline asked as Sherlock made his way back into the flat. The flat now was more picked up, there were only a few boxes out and everything in the kitchen was either on a shelf or hidden away in a cabinet.

"You cleaned?" Sherlock evaded the question with another one.

"Yes, the place was a mess what did you expect-" Caroline abruptly stopped when she realized what he did, "Sherlock, stop it. Were is John?"

"On his way here I would assume." Sherlock started to move things around. Looking behind books and inside the skull.

"What did you do with them?" He asked once he saw that whatever he was looking for was not there.

"Do with what?" Caroline said innocently as she sat down in the black chair, sipping some tea.

"My ciggerates, what did you do with them Ro?" Sherlock looked behind books and under pillows.

"I think you know what I did with them Sherlock." Caroline looked him in the eyes, "You know I hate them."

" But I need them." Sherlock says as he sits in the chair opposite of Caroline, taking the tea from and taking a sip before he handed it back to her.

"And why is that?" Caroline asked, "Do you want them for a problem?"

"Yes," Sherlock leaned forward, "I need them for a problem."

"Well, you are not getting them." Sherlock sighed in anger, why was she still doing this?

"But I did get you something else," Caroline stood up and walked over to the kitchen and took out a package. "Since I knew you would want them so bad, I got you patches. Give you the same amount of nicotine but without the smoke. I will not have this flat smelling like smoke Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled at her and ripped open the package, pulling up his sleeves and quickly put on three patches before he lay down on the couch.

"Tea?" Caroline asked as she watch Sherlock take out his phone and type something before putting it back and assuming the 'Sherlock position' as Caroline like to call it.

"No thanks Ro, just going to focus on my problem." Sherlock called back as he closed his eyes.

Caroline shook her head and smiled softly at him. She loved how he looked when he was thinking.

~00~

"What are you doing?" John asked as he looked at Sherlock, his legs on Caroline's lap as his eyes were closed and his hands clenching and unclenching.

"Hello John." Caroline said as she turned the page in the book she was reading, John greeted her back before turning his attention back to Sherlock.

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think." Sherlock showed him his three nicotine patches on his arm, "Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work."

John glanced at Caroline, who had snorted as Sherlock finished. "It's good news for breathing."

"Oh, breathing. Breathing's boring." Sherlock said dismissively. He squirmed around, looking like he was trying to get comfortable. He suddenly sat up and did a 180° turn and rest his head onto Caroline's lap before sighing again, this time in satisfaction.

John started at Sherlock, looking in shock at his arm. "Is that three patches?"

"It's a three-patch problem." Sherlock replied as he pressed his palms together under his chin. There was complete silence again, John looking around the room, Sherlock sitting silently with his eyes closed, and Caroline engrossed with her book.

"Well?" John asked after a few seconds of silence. Sherlock didn't respond at first, he kept his eyes shut before he breathed in deeply, smelling _Versace Cashmere _perfume. Caroline's favorite, she's loved it ever since it came out. Sherlock suddenly felt a tap on his head, followed by a soft-spoken voice.

"Sherlock, don't be rude. John asked you a question."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?"

That was not what John had been expected to be asked, he didn't know what he had expected, but it was certainly not that. "My phone?"

"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website." Sherlock explained

"Mrs. Hudson's got a phone, so does Caroline."

"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear. And Caroline's phone is in the bedroom, neither of us felt like getting up."

"I'm sorry John. If I had known he was going to get you to come here I would have gotten up. " Caroline said as she looked up from her book.

"I _was_ the other side of London." John said, ignoring Caroline's comment. He was beginning to feel very angry.

Sherlock either ignored the angry tone in his voice or didn't recognize it, "There was no hurry."

John glared at him, before sighing and staring at the ceiling to calm himself down. If he looked at Sherlock again he might strangle him. After a moment of silence, John reached into his pocket and dug out his phone, holding it out to Sherlock. "Here."

Sherlock held his hand out, waiting for the phone to be placed in his hand. He didn't see John glaring at him but he could feel it as the phone was placed in his palm. Sherlock returned to his original position, with the phone now between his palms.

"So what's this about – the case?" John asked.

"Her case." Sherlock said softly, taking another deep breath of Caroline's perfume before he focused on John again.

"_Her_ case?" John clarified

"Her suitcase, yes, obviously." Sherlock said, "The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake."

"Okay, he took her case. So?" John didn't see why he was here.

"It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Sherlock spoke quietly to Caroline, who shrugged in reply. This wasn't her area of expertise.

"On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text." Sherlock spoke to John

"You brought me here," John smiled sarcastically at Sherlock, "to send a text?"

"Text, yes. The number on my desk." Sherlock completely unaware of his anger, until Caroline _bopped_ him on the head.

"He's mad," Caroline whispered to him, "be considerate Sherlock."

"Not to anyone but you." Sherlock waved her off. Caroline looked up to John and gave him an apologetic look, who ignored her and continued to glare at Sherlock, contemplating on if he could get away with killing him, as he saw Sherlock raise the phone to him. He eventually stalked over to Sherlock and snatched the phone away from him. Sherlock closed his eyes once more, before placing his hands together and putting them under his chin.

John, instead of going to the desk, walked over to the window and peaked out of it, as if he was looking for something.

"John?" Caroline called to him, "Is everything okay?" Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at John.

"Just met a friend of yours." John said simply, still looking out the window.

"A _friend_?" Sherlock asked, he didn't have friends.

"An enemy." John clarified. Sherlock immediately relaxed at John's words.

"Oh. Which one?" John looked at Caroline in exasperation, who shook her head, telling him she felt the same.

"Your _arch_-enemy, according to him." He looked at Sherlock, "Do people _have_ arch-enemies?"

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the question.

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

"No."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time." Sherlock told him, flinching when Caroline _bopped_ him on the head.

"Who is he?" John asked

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now." Sherlock told him softly, "On my desk, the number."

John glared at Sherlock for not answering his question, before he turned to the desk and looked at the paper, a luggage tag.

"Jennifer Wilson. That was.." John trailed off, thinking back, "Hang on. Wasn't that the dead woman?"

Sherlock waved him off, "Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number."

John shook his head at him and began to type the number on his phone.

"These words exactly: 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.' " Sherlock told John, " 'Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.' "

John had typed to 'I must have.." before he turned to Sherlock frowning. "You blacked out?"

"What?" Sherlock exclaimed, "No. No!"

"Sherlock never drinks on a case," Caroline told John, "He did once and almost got in serious trouble."

"Type and send it. Quickly." Sherlock said as he jumped up, suddenly remembering something and walked into the kitchen quickly, stepping over the coffee table in the process.

"Sherlock!" Caroline cried out, "I just cleaned that!"

"Mrs. Hudson will clean it in the morning." Sherlock called back, "When was the last time you checked your blood sugar Ro?"

"She is not your housekeeper Sherlock! You are a grown man!" Caroline called to Sherlock.

"Your blood sugar Ro! When was the last time you checked it?" Sherlock stuck his head out of the kitchen.

"Right after I got off the plane." Caroline told him, Sherlock's eyes widened at her answer.

"Ro that's been five hours!" Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom and came out with a small leather case and tossed it to Caroline, who barely caught it in surprise.

"Sherlock what is this about?" Caroline asked him as he walked back into the living room with a pink suitcase, Jennifer Wilson's suitcase.

"I heard about what happened while you were home." Sherlock said simply, "I'm just enduring it doesn't happen again.

"Sherlock," Caroline exasperated, "I am an adult. And that was one time. I know when to check my own blood sugar."

"Well then check it to make me feel comfortable." Sherlock said to her. Caroline sighed and pulled out the glucose pen and alcohol wipe and wiped her left index finer and pricked her finger with the pen.

John looked between them in confusion before it dawned on him, Charlotte had diabetes. And Sherlock was being … _protective_. John hadn't even known the man for a day but he knew from the information he had gathered so far that Sherlock wasn't a protective person. Caroline was probably family, or someone special to him. John looked up and saw that Sherlock was looking at him expectantly.

"Have you sent it?" Sherlock asked, sneaking a glance at Caroline who patiently waited for her glucose meter to _beep._

"What's the address?" Caroline and her glucose meter beeping distracted John.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Hurry up!" Sherlock didn't like how John kept sneaking glances at Caroline, he barely knew her. Not like Sherlock knew her, he shouldn't be staring at her while they were on a case.

John finished the text and sent it before he looked at Sherlock who was checking out Caroline's meter and pointed to the kitchen. She sighed in defeat and walking into the kitchen.

"It's only 78 Sherlock!. That's not low! That's average." Caroline said as she put a bagel in the toaster.

"Don't you think I know that?" Sherlock said to her as he opened the pink suitcase, shuffling through the contents, "That's to close to low though. You'll need to eat again before you go to bed and you'll need to inject your insulin-"

"I know Sherlock! I'm not a child, stop treating me like one!" Caroline walked into his bedroom and slammed the door behind her, forgetting about her bagel.

John and Sherlock drifted into an awkward silence as Sherlock sifted through the contents on the case, pulling things and putting them back in. John looked at Sherlock, expecting him to explain, but he never said anything. He only looked through the case.

"That's," John stuttered in shock, once he realized what it was, "that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case."

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock replied as he continued looking at the case.

"Oh, perhaps I should mention: _I_ didn't kill her."

"I never said you did."

"Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact I that have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?"

Sherlock smirked at that, "Now and then, yes." He swept himself over his chair, perching on the backside of it, hands pressed together under his chin.

"Okay." John trailed off slowly; follow Sherlock's movement, but not as gracefully. John limped across the room, plopping heavily into the chair opposite of Sherlock.

"How did you get this?" John asked, referring to the suitcase.

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention," Sherlock explained, "particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it."

Sherlock glanced at his bedroom door, worrying about Caroline, before continuing, "Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens. And anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."

"You got _all_ that because you realized the case would be pink?" John said amazed

"Well, it _had_ to be pink, obviously." Sherlock said smugly

"Why didn't _I_ think of that?" John muttered to himself, if this man could figure it out why couldn't he?

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock told John simply.

"Sherlock." A voice behind John warned, Caroline. John glanced behind him and saw she was wearing a pair of grey skinny jeans and a navy blue peplum shirt, her ginger hair in a ponytail and her face makeup free. John couldn't help himself but spend a bit of time looking at her prosthetic. It really was an artificial leg. It had silicone to keep a grip and steady the leg going up to mid thigh, and from there down it looked like a completely normal leg. 

"Neat isn't it?" John quickly looked away, ashamed he had been caught staring. "No it's okay. The stares don't bother me anymore. I got this leg for my 21st birthday from the Holmes family. Very kind. Costly, I'd assume."

"Now, look." Sherlock said, directing the conversation back to the case, "Do you see what's missing?"

"From the case? How _could_ I?" John said

"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one," Sherlock pointed to the suitcase, "that's her number there. You just texted it."

"Maybe she left it at home." Caroline offered, lying down on the couch.

Sherlock gripped the arms of the chair and lowered himself down, sitting properly. "She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She _never_ leaves her phone at home." Dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

"Er.." John trailed off as Sherlock looked at John, "Why did I just send that text?"

"Well, the question is: where is her phone _now_?" Sherlock looked between John and Caroline. 

"She could have lost it." Caroline said.

"Yes, or..?" Sherlock looked for the right answer from John.

"The murderer," John said slowly as it dawned on him, "You think the murderer has the phone?"

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone."

"Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will _that_ do?" John asked incredulously. As if on cue, the phone began to ring. He picked it up and stared at the Caller I.D.,

(withheld)

calling

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just _found_ that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer." Sherlock paused dramatically, "would panic."

"Have you talked to the police?" John asked as Sherlock stood up and walked across the room to Caroline, who was fast asleep, and pulled a over her legs before he grabbed his coat and pulled it on.

"Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police." Sherlock told John

"So why are you talking to _me_?" John asked, though Sherlock ignored him as he put on his coat.

"Because your brilliant John, Sherlock just refuses to admit anyone else is as brilliant as him." Caroline mumbled sleepily.

"I didn't know you were awake." John said.

"She wasn't." Sherlock told him, "She's a light sleeper, anything could wake her up."

"So were are we going?" Caroline asked as she threw off the blanket, smiling slightly because she knew Sherlock had put it on her.

"Numberlands Street." Sherlock told her as she walked into their bedroom to get her blue converses. Sherlock looked at John as Caroline finished tying her shoes.

"Well?" He said

"Well what?" John replied

"Well, you could just sit there and watch the telly." Sherlock pointed at the telly.

"What… you want me to come with you?"

"Yes he does John and I do to. I need a normal person around. Sherlock confuses me with all of his deductions and intellectual words. I need a person with the same intellectual level as me." Caroline wrapped an arm around Johns shoulders. "Problem?"

"Yeah, Sergeant Donavan." John told them, looking at both of them. Sherlock looked away in exasperation and Caroline's face turned slightly red at the mention of the woman's name.

"What about her?" Caroline asked tightly

"She said..." John was shocked at Caroline's reactions to Sergeant Donavan's name, "You get off on this. You enjoy it."

"And I said 'dangerous, and you were here." Sherlock replied simply, turning towards the door and walking out of the flat.

Caroline followed after him but before she could get out the door, she turned back to John.

"Donavan hates Sherlock, hates how he's smarter than her, hates how he always steals her thunder from Lestrade. Anything she says is biased and you shouldn't trust it. She doesn't know him well enough, not like I do." She gave him a small smile and turned and walked out the doors.

John stood there thoughtfully, thinking about Caroline's words. Then, angrily, pushed himself foreword and headed for the door. "Damn it!"

A/N: Had to take the chapter down. I was writing another story as I wrote this and got the names mixed up. Sorry.

Notes on reviews:

Guest: Thanks! I fixed it.


	2. Study in Pink: Part 2

"Where are we going?" John asked as he caught up with Caroline and Sherlock walking down the street.

"Northumberland Street's a five-minute walk from here." Sherlock said to John as he and Caroline waited for him to catch up before continuing down the road.

"You think he's stupid enough to go there?" John asked. Caroline chose to remain silent, letting the men have their talk. Caroline wasn't smart in the art of deduction or loved the front line combat as John did. Caroline preferred to stay in the background, undetected.

Sherlock smiled at Caroline, knowing John was going to ask that question, "No, I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They're all so desperate to get caught."

"Why?"

"Appreciation! Applause! At long lasts the spotlight. That's frailty of genius, John: it needs an audience."

"Yeah." John looked at him pointedly, implying that he and Caroline were the audience. Sherlock, oblivious of his implication, spun around with his hands raised to show that the entire area was the audience before he to walk slower inconspicuously so Caroline could catch up to him and slipped his hand into her hand. John, however, did notice and wondered how this daft man had managed to get someone as beautiful as Caroline. From what John could tell, Sherlock seemed like a rather closed off man. You could obviously tell that Sherlock and Caroline were in some sort of relationship. The way Sherlock was comfortable around her, the way he spoke, the way her cared and hovered over her made it all to clear that Sherlock cared for her. How one Earth Caroline managed to deal with Sherlock was beyond him.

"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go." Sherlock stopped a moment and took both of Caroline's hands and each one on his temples before he placed his hands over hers to make sure she wouldn't move them. He always thought the clearest when Caroline was near him, even clearer when she was touching him.

"Think!" Sherlock muttered, encouraging Caroline to help.

"Well," Caroline thought for a minute before she could speak again, "Who do you trust, even though you don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" She turned to John, wanting his input.

"Dunno. Who?" John couldn't think of anyone.

"Haven't the faintest." Sherlock replied as he let go of Caroline's hands, letting them fall from his head before he grabbed her hand again.

"Hungry?" Sherlock led Caroline and John forewords and into a small restaurant. John guessed that Sherlock and/or Caroline must have eaten here often because the waiter at the door smiled once he saw the two.

"Caroline!" The waiter ran up to her and lifted her in a hug, making her drop Sherlock's hand as she returned it. "You want your usual table?"

"If it wouldn't be to much trouble." Caroline smiled at the man as he nodded and gestured to a window table at the front of the restaurant that had a reserved card.

"Sherlock told us you were coming, I had to be the first to greet you." The man smiled at her.

"Thank you, Billy." Sherlock said as he took off his coat and slid into the booth, followed by Caroline. Sherlock immediately turned sideways so he could view the street. John sat down across from the, back facing the window, as Billy removed the reserved sign and left.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it." Sherlock nodded towards the building across the street.

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he?" John asked, "He'd need to be mad."

"He _has_ killed four people." Caroline reminded him, "And we don't know the motive, these could be carefully planned out or they could be done one a whim."

John, his thoughts scatterd, didn't know what to say besides, "... Okay."

The manager of the restaurant made his way to the table once he saw them enter, "Sherlock."

Sherlock stuck out his hand for him to shake. "Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." The manager told them.

"On the house, for you _and_ for your date." The manager said to them, as he laid down three menus.

"Do you want to eat?" Sherlock said to John as he picked up a menu and leaned to Caroline to share with her.

"I'm not his date." John told the manager, thinking that he meant _he_ was Sherlock's date.

"I wasn't talking about you." The manager reassured John, looking at Sherlock and Caroline with a small smile on his face. John looked over at Sherlock and Caroline before his eyes widened. Sherlock had his left arm wrapped around Caroline's shoulders, his head leaning slightly into her direction, talking lightly to Caroline as they discussed what they wanted to eat.

"This women helped Sherlock get me off a murder charge." The manger said, Caroline looked up at smiled at him.

"John, this is Angelo." Caroline introduced. Angelo offered his hand to John.

"I'm sorry," John said, "did you say Caroline helped Sherlock with the case?"

"Three years ago we successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking. Caroline was able to prove that the murderer was not Angelo because she saw that Angelo had much less strength than murderer." Sherlock explained.

"That's amazing." John said to Caroline, very impressed.

"I've been a forensic anthropologist for 8 years now." Caroline explained to John

"They cleared my name." Angelo said to John

"We cleared it a _bit_. Anything happening opposite?" Caroline asked concerned.

"Nothing." Angelo reassured her before turning to John again, "But if not for them, I'd have gone to prison."

"You _did_ go to prison." Sherlock reminded him.

"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic." Angelo ,ignoring Sherlock, smiled before walking away.

"I'm not his date!" John cried out indignantly, thinking Angelo was talking about him and Sherlock before he looked to the two across the table, realizing they were looking at him.

"You may as well eat. We might have a long wait." Sherlock told John as he looked up before turning back to Caroline. John looked back and forth between them and realized that it did look like they were on a date. John smiled softly before frowning, that mean he was the third wheel!

Angelo came back around to the table with a small, clear glass bowl with a lit candle in it and smiled at Sherlock and Caroline before he patted John on the back, confirming John's thoughts that he _was_ in fact the third wheel.

"Thanks." John muttered dryly.

~00~

"People don't _have_ arch-enemies." John said as he finished chewing his food. Sherlock's attention was fixed out the window as he had hold of Caroline's right hand, rubbing his thumb along hers in an affectionate manner. Caroline was awkwardly eating with her left, her right hand being her dominant, but was too content to ask for her hand back.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked, he had not paid attention to John.

"In real life. There _are_ no archenemies in real life. Doesn't happen." John told him.

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull." Sherlock fixed his gaze out the window again, disinterestedly.

"So who did I meet?" John asked curiously, looking to Sherlock and then to Caroline. If Sherlock was acting this way with Caroline she must have known him for a long time, surely she must have encountered the man. But Caroline wouldn't make eye contact with him, she just kept sipping her soup. John knew that she had some knowledge of the situation but wasn't sharing it.

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?" Sherlock evaded the question, not wanting to discuss the topic.

"Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like...Girlfriends, boyfriends..." John tried to lay out the opportunity so that Sherlock could say that whether or not he was in a relationship with Caroline, needing the man with as many emotions as a brick could be in a relationship.

"Yes, well, as I was saying– dull." Sherlock, oblivious as he was to these types of situations, did not recognize said opportunity.

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?" John asked, surprised, he could have sworn that he and Caroline were in a relationship.

"Girlfriend?" Sherlock eyed him, "No, not really my area." Sherlock said shaking his head, still looking out the window. Though his grip had tightened on Caroline's hand, making her look up at him in confusion.

Caroline has known Sherlock for over twenty years, since they were small children. She knew that Sherlock acted differently around her, more affectionate, than he did with anybody else. Caroline also knew that Sherlock was very protective over things that he liked, he did _not_ like sharing. But in the twenty-eight years that Caroline had known this man, she hadn't been able to figure out whether these small displays of affection were platonic or not. Caroline wasn't smart enough to deduce a person the way Sherlock was or didn't have the thrive for adventure that John had. Caroline loved standing in the shadows, she felt she could gather a better opinion on things. Caroline wasn't the smartest woman around, she had to work the hardest she could to be a forensic anthropologist, she couldn't always keep up with Sherlock, with all of his running around and putting his life on the line, Caroline wasn't physically able to. With Caroline being and amputee and a diabetic things were hard for her, not to the point of the controlled her life, no. She just had to be cautious, she could run to long as it would drop her blood sugar to low and she could fight well, just not with the kind of prosthetic she had.

"Mmh." John said in thought, he had thought for sure that Sherlock and Caroline were a couple. But Sherlock had made it clear that they weren't. John tried to scramble up possibilities on what they were one he realized the possible significance of Sherlock's statement.

"Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend?" John asked making Sherlock turn to him sharply. "Which is fine, by the way." John added quickly, not wanting to offend him if he had.

"I _know_ it's fine." Sherlock said. John smiled at him to try to silently tell him that he hadn't meant what he said in a negative manner.

"So you've got a boyfriend then?" John tried to clear up his confusion.

"No." Sherlock replied shortly, not really wanting to discuss the subject any longer.

"Right. Okay. You're unattached. Like me." John smiled, though it had become tight and awkward, as had the situation.

"Fine." He said as he begun to realize he had run out of things to say before he cleared his throat to talk again, "Good."

John continued eating, hoping he had evaded the awkward situation. But this was not the case as Sherlock turned to look out the window before he took into account of John's words.

"John, um...I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any..." Sherlock tried to let John down easily before he was interrupted by him.

"No." John cleared his throat, "No, I'm not asking. No."

Caroline laughed lightly at the awkward situation, it was surprising how often Sherlock was mistaken for a gay man.

"I'm just saying, it's _all_ fine." John looked into Sherlock's eyes, trying to convey his sincerity.

Sherlock stared at him for a moment, before nodding. "Good. Thank you. Look across the street. Taxi." John looked to were Sherlock was pointing across the street, where a taxi was parked at the side of the road.

"Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out." Caroline said quietly. In back seat of the taxi, the male passenger looked through the windows as if looking for something in particular.

"Why a taxi? Oh, that's clever. _Is_ it clever? _Why_ is it clever?" Sherlock muttered to himself.

"That's him?" John asked, looking at the man.

"Don't stare." Sherlock told him. John looked at him incredulously.

"_You're_ staring." John pointed out.

"You can't both stare," Caroline pointed out, "One person staring? Coincidence. Two people staring? They're talking about you."

Caroline got to her feet and waited at the table, holding out Sherlock's jacket and held it out for him to get into and tied his scarf around his neck. Sherlock smiled at her before he made his way towards the door, John quickly following behind and Caroline after them both. They had just gotten across the street as the cab pulled away.

"Sorry." John called as he caught up to Sherlock and Caroline, "I've got the cab number."

"Good for you." Sherlock said to John as he closed his eyes and brought his hands to his temples, going to his mind place. He brought up a map of the local area, and added the street names to figure out what route the cab would have to take.

John stared at Sherlock in annoyance, first he ran in the middle of the street to catch the cab and now he was standing there with his fingers to his temples like Charles Xavier! What did he think he was doing?

Having worked out which route the cab would take out, Sherlock talked quickly to John and Caroline, "Right turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights."

Sherlock looked and saw a man unlocking a door to a nearby building and his mind flashed a sign, '_ALTERNATIVE ROUTE.' _He took of towards the man, grabbing him and shoving him out of the way before Sherlock ran into the building.

"Oy!" The man cried, mad at how rude the stranger had been, looking to John and Caroline. John apologized quickly before taking off, raising a hand to the man. Though Caroline came to a complete stop, "I'm sorry about him, he's not well mannered and he's on the search for something."

Caroline didn't wait for his reply and went to catch up with Sherlock and John before she realized what Sherlock was doing; he was jumping across buildings to regain the distance he lost. Caroline ran up after them, nearly tripping on the stairs.

Sherlock ran to the edge of the roof and looked over before he saw a short metal spiral staircase that leads down the side of the building to another door one floor lower. He ran down the stairs and climbed onto the railing before leaping across the gap to the next building. John scrambled onto the railing and followed, Caroline shortly behind him. Sherlock ran across to the other side of the roof and, again, leaps across to the next building. John races after him, but then skids to a halt as he realizes that the gap may be too big for him to jump across. Caroline didn't wait for him and jumps across effortlessly. Jon hesitated, looking at the drop below.

"Come on John, we're loosing him!" Sherlock yelled to him. John backed up to gain more speed and took a running start. He landed onto a walkway along with Sherlock and Caroline and they took off into a run again, trying to catch up to the cab. They down another metal staircase then ran to a ledge and dropped down into an alleyway before running onwards again. Sherlock led them down the alleyway as, in his own head, a map showed their location to where the taxi must be. Sherlock, John, and Caroline's paths were beginning to grow. Sherlock turns the corner and races down the last part of the alley, only to see the taxi drive past the end, heading towards the left.

"Ah, no!" Sherlock yelled angrily. Without completely stopping, he ran to the end of the ally and turned right, Caroline following behind him quickly. "This way."

John turned left, in pursuit of the taxi. "No, _this_ way!" Caroline called out.

"Sorry." John called, quickly changing his course and following them. In Sherlock's mind-map, he picked a new point where he, Caroline and John could intercept the cab. They ran down the street, taking a shorter route than the taxi, which was being redirected by road signs, taking it the long way around. They headed down more alleyways, towards the interception point in. Finally, at the point, which his mind-map had predicted, Sherlock raced out of the side street and hurled himself into the path of the cab, which had screeched to a halt as he crashes hard into the hood of the cab. Scrabbling into his left coat pocket, Sherlock pulled out an I.D. badge and flashes it at the driver as he runs to the right hand side of the cab where the passenger was.

"Police! Open her up!" Sherlock called out, Caroline joining him out of breath. Breathing heavily, she opened the back door up, allowing Sherlock to look at the passenger as she cried to catch her breath.

"No." Sherlock said, as John joined them. Caroline looked over to the passenger as Sherlock did. "Teeth, tan: what – Californian?"

"Yep. L.A., Santa Monica. He just arrived." Caroline said as she looked to the floor in front of the passenger. Sherlock straightened up, looking to Caroline disappointedly, it wasn't who they were looking for.

"The luggage." Sherlock said. John looked down and indeed saw that the man's luggage label had LAX to LHR. Sherlock turned to the passenger, "It's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?"

"Sorry – are you guys the police?" The man said.

"Yeah." Sherlock said, flashing the I.D. briefly. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." The passenger smiled. Sherlock straightened up once more, pausing as he wondered how to finish the conversation.

"Welcome to London." Caroline cut in, taking over for Sherlock. Sherlock nodded quickly in thanks and immediately walked off, Caroline following quickly behind him, leaving John behind. He looked to the taxi, trying to defuse the situation that most likely worried the man.

"Er, any problems, just let us know." John smiled politely and shut the door, quickly taking off after Sherlock and Caroline.

"Basically just a cab that happened to slow down." John said.

"Basically." Sherlock replied, taking Caroline hand.

"Not the murderer."

"_Not_ the murderer, no."

"Wrong country, good alibi."

"As they go." Sherlock said. John noticed the I.D. Sherlock used in his hand.

"Hey, where-where did you get this? Here." John reached for it and Sherlock let him take it.

"Right." John said, "Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

"Yeah. I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat." Sherlock told him.

"And he's hidden them very well. I try to return the things that he take from Lestrade but I can't seem to find them." Caroline said with a smile and the shake of her head. John looked at the I.D. and giggled lightly.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing, just: 'Welcome to London." He smiled at Caroline. Caroline rolled her eyes and lightly pushed Johns shoulder. Sherlock chuckled when Caroline nudged him and pointed before nodding. Sherlock looked to where she pointed and saw a police officer talking to the passenger and saw that the passenger was pointing to them.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock said to John.

"Ready when you are." John said. Sherlock nodded and released Caroline's hand as they all took of running.

~00~

They arrived back at their flat, 221B, and walked along the hallway, breathing heavily. John hung his jacket on a hook on the wall while Sherlock draped his coat over the bottom of the banisters, taking off Caroline's and doing the same.

"Okay, that was ridiculous." John said. They all leaned against the wall, trying to regain their breath. Caroline rested her head on top of Sherlock's shoulder as she tried to calm her erratic heartbeat. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."

"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock said. John laughed and after a moment Caroline began laughing, Sherlock joining in as well.

"That wasn't just me." John protested lightly, Sherlock chuckled.

"Why aren't we back at the restaurant?" John asked.

"Oh, they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway." Sherlock said seriously as he waved his hand in dismissal.

"So what were we doing there?"

"Oh, just passing the time." Caroline said, smiling at John.

"And proving a point." Sherlock added.

"What point?" John asked

"You." Caroline said softly, looking at John curiously. John grew slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. What was her deal?

"Mrs. Hudson! Doctor Watson _will_ take the room upstairs." Sherlock called the landlady as he turned to towards the door to her flat, dragging Caroline along with him, not letting go of her hand.

"Says who?" John said indignantly.

"Says the man at the door." Caroline called to him. John turned towards the door as someone knocked on it, turning back to look at Caroline and Sherlock in surprise. He stared at them for a moment before answering the door, finding it was Angelo, from the restaurant, who had knocked.

"Caroline texted me," Angelo smiled as he held out Johns cane to him, "Said you forgot this."

John stared at the cane in surprise, realizing he _had_ in fact forgotten it. He had managed to leap across a building and run across town without it. "….Ah…. Er, thank you. Thank you." John said to Angelo as he looked back to Sherlock and Caroline, both smiling at him. As he closed the door and came back in, Mrs. Hudson burst from her flat, almost in tears.

"Sherlock, what have you done?" She said. Caroline looked at her in alarm and went to comfort the women.

"Mrs. Hudson?" She asked worriedly.

"Upstairs." She answered simply. Caroline hurriedly rushed up the stairs, Sherlock and John following quickly behind her. Caroline opened the living room door to find Lestrade sitting casually in Sherlock's chair. Multiple officers were looking through Sherlock's possessions.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock said as he stormed over to Lestrade.

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid." He said simply.

"You can't just break into my flat." Sherlock said angrily.

"And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't _break_ into your flat." Lestrade told him

"Were is your warrant then?" Caroline asked the man, moving to Sherlock, rubbing the small of his back to calm him down. Lestrade wordlessly handed her the paper and she snatched it from him, quickly reading over it.

"Well, what do you call this then?" Sherlock asked as he watched Caroline.

Lestrade looked around at his officers before answering Sherlock innocently. "It's a drugs bust."

"Seriously? _This_ guy, a junkie? Have you met him!" John said to the detective. He couldn't believe Sherlock had ever even touched drugs.

"John.." Caroline called out to John, telling him to be quiet, as she still read the paper.

John paid no attention to her as he continued talking to the detective, "I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

Sherlock walked over to John, biting his lip nervously as John dug him deeper, "John, you probably want to shut up _now_."

"Yeah, but come on..." John said as he looked back at Sherlock, pausing as he saw how serious Sherlock was. "No."

"What?"

"_You?_" John asked.

"Shut up!" Sherlock turned to Lestrade, "I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No," Lestrade agreed, "_Anderson_'s my sniffer dog."

"What, An…" Sherlock turned to the opening doors of the kitchen, which revealed several more officers searching and Anderson, who raised his hands in mock greeting.

"Anderson, what are _you_ doing here on a drugs bust?" Caroline asked as she handed back the warrant to Lestrade, shaking her head at Sherlock to tell him there was no loophole.

"Oh, I volunteered." Anderson said venomously, turning around when he saw the glare Caroline gave him. Sherlock turned away and bit his lip angrily.

"They _all_ did. They're not strictly speaking _on_ the drugs squad, but they're very keen." Lestrade told them.

"Are these _human_ eyes?" Donavan said as she came from the kitchen with a small container with small round objects inside of it.

"Put those back!" Sherlock yelled to her.

"They were in the microwave!" She cried

"It's an experiment." Caroline said, "He has the paperwork to use them. Now, put them back."

"Keep looking, guys." Lestrade called out. He stood up and turned to Sherlock, "Or you could help us properly and I'll stand them down."

Sherlock paced around the living room angrily. "There are no drugs in this apartment. You know that. I wouldn't do that to Ro. Not again. This is childish."

"Well, I'm _dealing_ with a child." Lestrade exasperated, "Sherlock, this is _our_ case. I'm letting you in, but you do _not_ go off on your own. Clear?"

"Oh, what, so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?" Sherlock stopped pacing and glared at the man.

"It stops being pretend if they find anything." Lestrade said.

"I am clean!" Sherlock cried out, frustrated.

"Is your flat? All of it?" Lestrade asked

"I don't even smoke." Sherlock pointed out, lifting up his sleeve to reveal the nicotine patches on his arm.

"Neither do I." Lestrade did the same, also reveals nicotine patches. "So let's work together. We've found Rachel."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned away to face Caroline, who rolled up his sleeve for him.

"Who is she?" Sherlock turned around to face Lestrade once Caroline had finished rolling his sleeve up.

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter." Lestrade explained.

"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?" Sherlock frowned.

"Never mind _that_. We found the case." Anderson said, pointing to the bright pink case that last in the living room, "According to _someone_, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson." Sherlock rolled his eyes at Anderson disparagingly, "I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research."

"A psychopath: a person who is suffering from a chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior and who is mentally unstable and aggressive." Caroline explained, "A sociopath: a person with a personality disorder who can manifest itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience. Anderson, if you're going to insult someone, do it properly."

They both turned back to Lestrade with a small smile as they looked at each other.

"You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. _I_ need to question her." Sherlock said.

"She's dead." Lestrade said.

"Excellent." Sherlock cried out sarcastically.

"How, when and why?" Caroline said to Lestrade, "Is there a connection? There _has_ to be."

"Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago." Lestrade shook his head at her. John grimaced and turned away sadly and Caroline deflated with the news, but Sherlock was confused. Why did this women spend the last moments of her life painfully carving her stillborn daughters name into the ground?

"No, that's...that's not right. How...Why would she do that? _Why?_" Sherlock muttered.

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?" Anderson laughed lightly, "Yup– sociopath. I'm seeing it now."

Caroline turned to him in anger, "She didn't _think_ about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt. Jennifer Wilson was a smart women, so why would she spend her last moments carving her stillborn daughters name into a wooden floor. It's just not logical."

Sherlock began to pace back and forth across the room in deep thought.

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he _makes_ them take it. Well, maybe he," John tried to offer his input, "I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow."

"Yeah, but that was _ages_ ago. Why would she still be upset?" Sherlock said to him. John stared at him, looking surprised at the mans choice of words. Sherlock hesitated as he had realized everyone in the room had fallen silent, looking at him. He looked to Caroline who shook her head.

"Not good?" He said awkwardly, looking back to John.

"_Bit_ not good, yeah." Sherlock shook off the awkwardness and stepped closer to John, looking at him intently.

"Yeah, but if you were dying..." Sherlock said to John "If you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?"

"'Please God let me live?'" John said, at least that's what he had said.

"Oh, use your imagination!" Sherlock said exasperatingly.

"I don't _have_ to." John reminded solemnly. Sherlock looked at John apologetically, he had forgotten the man was a soldier who had actually seen a battle.

"Yeah, but if you were clever, _really_ clever.." Sherlock continued, "Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she _was_ clever."

He started pacing again, "She's trying to _tell_ us something."

Mrs. Hudson came to the door of the living room, "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Sherlock dismissed her. Caroline rolled her eyes and shot Mrs. Hudson an apologetic look.

"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" Mrs. Hudson cried out as she saw the officers digging through everything.

"It's a drugs bust, Martha." Caroline explained.

"But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers." Mrs. Hudson replied anxiously. Caroline shook her head at her, telling her they weren't her for _her_.

"Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think." Sherlock yelled out to the people in the apartment, grabbing Caroline to face him, "Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."

"What? My _face_ is?!" Anderson cried out indignantly.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade called out.

"Oh, for God's sake!"

"Your _back_, now, please!" Lestrade yelled to the man, he knew Sherlock was about to figure something out.

"Come on, think. Quick!" Caroline muttered in encouragement.

"What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson murmured.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled at the top of his lungs to the poor women. She hurriedly turned and went down the stairs, Caroline grabbing his hand as she told him to calm down. Sherlock stopped and stared into Caroline's green eyes before visibly relaxed as he realized something.

"Oh." He smiled in delight, "Ah! She was clever, clever, yes! She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't _lose_ her phone, she never lost it. She _planted_ it on him"

Sherlock looked back into Caroline's eyes, "When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"But how?" Lestrade asked, still not understanding.

"Wha..?" Sherlock looked over to the man, wondering how on earth he wasn't getting it. "What do you mean, how?" Lestrade shrugged, leaving it to Sherlock to explain.

"Rachel!" Sherlock cried out, "Don't you see? _Rachel!"_

Sherlock looked around to everyone who looked back at him in confusion and disbelief, except for Caroline who was looking back at him with eyes wide, _"_Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be _so_ relaxing."

"Rachel is not a name." Caroline said slowly, Sherlock nodded to her.

"Then what is it?" John asked, still not understanding what the two were going on about.

"John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address." Sherlock pointed to the luggage and John read the label.

"Er, .uk ." He read.

"Oh, I've been too slow. She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a Smartphone, it's e-mail enabled." Sherlock said as he sat on his couch and took out his laptop. They all watched as he typed into the computer, going to the _mephone_ website.

"And all together now, the password is?" Sherlock looked at John for the answer.

"Rachel." John walked over to stand behind him.

"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson inputted.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street." Sherlock said, "We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a Smartphone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."

"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade pointed out.

"We know he didn't." John told him.

"Come on, come on. Quickly!" Sherlock muttered to the computer, it wasn't fast enough for him.

Mrs. Hudson came to the door again, not wanting to be yelled at again she spoke softly. "Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver.."

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" Sherlock said to her as he rose from his chair and walked to her. John sat down in the chair Sherlock had occupied and watched the computer screen as it said it would locate the phone.

"We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter." Sherlock listed as he turned to Lestrade. "We're gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won't last for ever."

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name." Lestrade reminded him.

"It's a start!" Sherlock said, looking back at Caroline who smiled in encouragement, and smiled softly at her.

"Sherlock.." John called out to the man. The computer had loaded and was staring as the location of the phone was beginning to be revealed.

"It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead that we've had." Sherlock pointed out.

John called out to Sherlock again, gaining his attention. He made his way over to John, looking over his shoulder. "What is it? Quickly, where?"

"It's here. It's in 221 Baker Street." John said, confused.

Sherlock straightened, also in confusion. "How can it be here? _How_?"

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere." Lestrade tried to help, Sherlock quickly dismissed that theory.

"What, and I didn't notice it? _Me_? I didn't notice?" Sherlock shook his head as he tried to think, walking back in front of Caroline and stared into her eyes.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back." John told Lestrade, trying to help.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim." Lestrade called out to the officers. Sherlock quickly tuned him out, going to his mind place as he tried gathering information. Caroline knew as he visibly relaxed that he had found his answer and leaned towards him in anticipation. Sherlock took his eyes off her as his phone chimed with a text message.

_Come with me._

Sherlock turned his head towards the door, Caroline following his gaze to see a man, it was the cabbie that they had just chased down. Caroline squinted her eyes, as if that would help her figure something out.

"Caroline.. Sherlock, you okay?" John called to them as he saw them looking at the open door, the man not visible from where John was standing.

"What? Yeah, yeah, We're fine." Sherlock answered for them, still gazing at the cabbie as he retreated down the stairs.

"So, how can the phone be here?" John asked him.

"Dunno." Sherlock replied distractedly.

John reached into his pocket and grabbed his cell phone, "I'll try it again."

"Good idea." Caroline muttered to him, grabbing Sherlock's hand as they walked towards the door.

"Where are _you_ going?" John asked them, how could they leave at a time like this? They were close to figuring a key piece of evidence out!

"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Caroline doesn't do so well with crowds. Won't be long." Sherlock said to John. John frowned and managed to ask if they we're alright before they left.

"We're fine."

~00~

Downstairs, Sherlock opened the front door as he shrugged on his coat and waited for Caroline to do the same.

"Take for Sherlock Holmes." The cabbie said snarkily.

"I didn't order a taxi." Sherlock said to him.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one."

"You're the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street." Sherlock said to him, keeping his poker face. Caroline leaned lightly into him. "It was _you_, not your passenger."

"See? No one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an head. Proper advantage for a serial killer." The cabbie said gleefully.

"Is this a confession?" Caroline asked the man, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Oh, yeah. An' I'll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise." The man told them.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"'Cause you're not gonna do that." He pointed out.

"I will." Caroline said, her face not showing any emotion. The cabbie looked at her before looking back at Sherlock.

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. I spoke to them ... and they killed themselves. And if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing." He leaned closely to them, "I will never tell you what I said."

Caroline still showed no emotion, but her mind started to grind gears. Why did this man think they were married? And how did he know Sherlock's name? Sherlock stared at the man, giving no indication that he gave a second thought to the marriage mistake. The cabbie straightened and turned to head towards the driver side of the cab.

"No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result." Sherlock said to him. The cabbie stopped and turned back to Sherlock.

"And you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?" He antagonized, smirking slightly as he knew what Sherlock would do. He once again straightened and turned back to his cab, this time getting into the drivers seat and settling in, not turning to Sherlock and Caroline.

Biting his lip, Sherlock walked to the cab. But before he was to close he looked back up at his flats windows and then back at the cab once more. Sherlock leaned into to talk with the killer. "If I _wanted_ to understand, what would I do?"

"Let me take you for a ride."

"So you can kill us too?"

"I don't wanna kill you, Mr. Holmes." The killer said, "I'm gonna talk to _you_ ... and then you're gonna kill yourself."

Sherlock paused quickly, wondering why the man emphasized one 'you'. The man didn't want to kill the both of them, just him. He was purposely ignoring Caroline. But _why_? Caroline was interesting enough, almost as smart as he was. They had known each other since they were toddlers and they had went on all of their adolescent adventures together. They were practically equals, so why only target him? Sherlock straightened up and opened the door and held his hand in front of him to signal Caroline to go in first.

"She stays." The man told him.

"No she doesn't." Sherlock disagreed as Caroline sat down in the cab, following in suit and shutting the door. "She's my law enforcement consultant. I can't go anywhere without her."

The cabbie didn't say another word, he just started the engine and drove off.

"How did you find me?" Sherlock asked, taking hold of Caroline's hand.

"Oh, I recognized you, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock Holmes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!" Jeff praised.

Sherlock looked to Caroline and saw she was just watching the scenery pass before he looked back at the cabbie. "Who warned you about me?"

"Just someone out there whose noticed you." He answered vaguely.

"Who?" Sherlock asked, leaning foreword to get closer to him he noticed a picture of two young children that were attached to the dashboard of the cab. The man had children. "Who would notice _me_?"

The killer looked into the rear view mirror, "You're too modest Mr. Holmes."

"I'm really not." Sherlock dismissed.

"You've got yourself a fan." The man told Sherlock, his eyes back on the road.

"Tell me more."

"That's all you're gonna know.." The man paused to dramatically for Caroline's taste, this wasn't a soap opera. "in _this_ lifetime."

~00~

The next few minutes were quiet until they pulled up to two identical building, parking right in the middle. The cabbie immediately turned off the engine and walked over to Sherlock aside and opened the door.

"Where are we?" Sherlock asked as they made eye contact.

"You know every street in London. You know _exactly_ where we are." The man smirked.

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College." Caroline answered immediately. She saw the sign coming in, it wasn't that hard. "Why here?"

"Oh, you got a clever one, Mr. Holmes." The man chuckled, "It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out."

"And you just walk your victims in? How?" Sherlock asked. The man wordlessly held up a gun, pointing it at Sherlock. Sherlock rolled his eyes that the mediocre move. "Oh, dull."

"Don't worry. It get better."

Sherlock felt Caroline's grip on his hand tighten and rubbed his thumb across the back of her palm reassuringly, "You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint."

"I don't. It's much better than that." The cabbie lowered the gun, "Don't need this with you, 'cause you'll follow me. And she will follow you."

He left Sherlock and Caroline there, strutting into the right building. Caroline and Sherlock shared a glance and Caroline nodded. She was okay to do this, she wasn't nervous at all, she had faith in Sherlock. So, Sherlock ended up doing exactly as the killer had predicted, he followed him. With Caroline in tow.

~00~

The cabbie opened the door of a room and stood aside so that Sherlock and Caroline could go in before him. Sherlock looked at him closely and tugged Caroline closely to him before he walked into the room, looking around. Sherlock walked deeper into the room, not letting go of Caroline as he hugged her tighter to his body.

"Well, what do you think?" The killer asked. Sherlock raised his free hand and shrugged, asking 'what?', "It's up to you. You're the one who's gonna die here."

"No, I'm not." Sherlock replied.

"That's what they all say." The man gestured to the table, telling them to take a seat. "Shall we talk?"

Sherlock didn't hesitate and immediately sat down, giving no indication of fear. Caroline quickly follow Sherlock, completely ignoring the man. He sighed, "Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not _that_ stupid. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you."

"You call that a risk? Nah." The man said as he reached into the pocket of his cardigan, producing a small glass bottle with a tiny white capsule inside. "_This_ is a risk."

Sherlock just stared at it, not showing any emotion. Caroline, however, squinted at it, she didn't see the point yet.

"Oh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do you? But you're about to. I just have to do this." The killer reached back into his cardigan and, again, pulled at another bottle, exactly like the other one.

"You weren't expecting that, were you?" He leaned forwards, towards Caroline more than Sherlock. "You're going to love this."

"Love what?" Sherlock asked, his hand finding Caroline's.

The man sat back once more, "Sherlock Holmes. Look at you! Here in the flesh. That website of yours: your fan told me about it."

"My _fan_?" Sherlock asked.

"You are brilliant. You _are_. A proper genius. 'The Science of Deduction.' Now that is _proper_ thinking. Between you and me sitting here, why can't people think?" The man looked down, suddenly angry, "Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just _think_?"

Caroline locked eyes with the man, her eyes narrowing once she realized something. "Oh, _I_ see. So you're a proper genius _too_."

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man driving a cab. But your husband will know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing he'll _ever_ know." The man turned his attention back to Sherlock.

"Okay, two bottles. Explain." Sherlock stared at the man for a second before looking back at the bottles.

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die."

"Both bottles are of course identical."

"In every way."

"And you know which is which."

"Course _I_ know."

"But I don't."

"Wouldn't be a game if _you_ knew. You're the one who chooses."

"Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?" Sherlock asked, not seeing a point.

"I haven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine." Sherlock grinned, now he was very interested, but stopped grinning once Caroline squeezed his hand out of worry. She didn't like the odds of the situation.

"I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't." The man promised. Sherlock looked at the two bottles, trying to decide what to do. "Didn't expect _that_, did you, Mr. Holmes?"

"This is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice." Caroline said to the killer.

"And now I'm givin' _him _one." The man looked back to Sherlock, "You take your time. Get yourself together. I want your best game."

"It's not a _game_. It's _chance_." Caroline said angrily.

"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mrs. Holmes, it's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this.." He paused, "_this_ ... is the move."

He slid the bottle that was in his left hand over to Sherlock, "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one."

"You ready yet, Mr. Holmes? Ready to play?" He asked.

"Play _what_? It's a fifty-fifty chance." Caroline barked at him.

"You're not playin' the numbers, you're playin' _me_. Did I just give him the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a _triple_-bluff? He decides." The man said to Caroline.

"Still just chance." Caroline barked back to him.

"Four people in a row? It's not just chance." He disagreed.

"Luck." Sherlock said, taking the mans attention off of Caroline.

"It's genius. I know how people think." The killer boasted. Sherlock rolled his eyes and nudged Caroline, getting a small snigger "I know how people think _I_ think. I can see it all, like a map inside my head."

"Everyone's so stupid – even you." That made Sherlock turn his attention back to the man. "Or maybe God just loves me."

"Either way, you're _wasted_ as a cabbie." Caroline dished.

"So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" Sherlock asked quickly, not wanting this mans gaze to turn to Caroline.

"Time to play." The man tried to evade his question, but Sherlock wouldn't let go of it.

"Oh, I _am_ playing. This is _my_ turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you." Sherlock noticed it when he was in the cab. "Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no-one to tell you."

The man shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Sherlock continued, inwardly smiling as he made the man squirm. "But there's a photograph of children. The children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she'd still be there."

"The photograph's old but the frame's new. You think of your children but you don't get to see the" Sherlock added, "Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it _still_ hurts. Ah, but there's more. Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you're wearing is at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's _that_ about?"

"Three years ago – is that when they told you?" Caroline asked.

"Told me what?" The man answered, void of any emotion.

"That you're a dead man walking." Sherlock answered him.

"So are you."

"You don't have long, though. Am I right?"

"It's an aneurism." The man looked over at Caroline in surprise. How had she known that?

"I'm a Forensic Anthropologist. I know every muscle and every cell in the body like the back of my hand. You could die at any moment, is that why you killed four people. For what? Does it make you high? Give you a blood rush?" Caroline pushed.

"I've _outlived_ four people. That's the most fun you can _have_ on an aneurism." He disagreed.

"No. No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children." Sherlock deduced.

The man looked away, sighing. "Ohh." He looked back to Sherlock. "You _are_ good, ain't you?"

"But _how_?"

"When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs."

"Or serial killing."

"You'd be surprised." The man smirked.

"Surprise me." Sherlock challenged.

The man leaned in close, whispering. "I've got a sponsor."

"You have a what?" Caroline asked, appalled.

"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think." The man leaned back, content.

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" Sherlock asked.

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock Holmes." The man asked, staring at Sherlock who started right back. "You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man ... and they're so much more than that."

"What d'you mean, _more_ than a man? An organization? What?" Sherlock nose twitched in disgust and confusion.

"There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter." The man got back to business, gesturing to the bottles. "Time to choose."

"What if I don't choose either? I _could_ just walk out of here." Sherlock pointed out.

"You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head." Sherlock didn't accept the threat, choosing to smiled mockingly at him. "Funnily enough, no-one's ever gone for that option."

"I'll have the gun, please." Sherlock said confidently.

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely. The gun."

"You don't wanna phone a friend?"

"The gun." The mans mouth tightened and slowly pulled the trigger, not producing a bullet, but a small flame. It was a lighter.

"I know a real gun when I see one." Sherlock squeezed Caroline's hand in reassurance. Who, while showing no signs of fear, was absolutely terrified. She was holding onto Sherlock's hand as if it was her life line.

"None of the others did." The man calmly released his hold on the trigger, the flame going out.

"Clearly. Well, this has been _very_ interesting. I look forward to the court case." Sherlock gently pulled Caroline and up they made their way to the door to leave.

"Just before you go, did you figure it out..." The man called, making Sherlock stop, stopping Caroline in the process. "which one's the good bottle?"

"Of course. Child's play." Sherlock told him smugly.

"Well, which one, then?" Sherlock didn't answer the man and opened the door slightly, but every person in the room knew that he wasn't going to leave.

"Which one would you have picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?" Caroline sighed as Sherlock shut the door, he could never resist a challenge. Even as a child.

"Come on. Play the game." The man chuckled. Slowly, Sherlock walked back to the table and grabbed the bottle nearest the man and walked past him once more.

"Oh, interesting." The man said, his voice gave away no hints in whether Sherlock was right or not. He picked up the remaining bottle, Sherlock looking at the bottle in his hand.

"So, what do you think?" The man took out the capsule and held it in his hand, looking up at Sherlock. "Shall we?"

"Really, what do you think?" The man taunted, standing up and facing Sherlock, "Can you beat me? Are you clever enough to bet your life? I bet you get bored, don't you? I know you do. A man like you, so clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it."

Sherlock tensely opened the bottle and took out the capsule, holding it between his index finger and thumb. Looking at Caroline, who had followed him and still right next to him, as she looked at him worriedly. Doubt filled her panicked mind; she bit her lip, which had almost distracted Sherlock. Not that he would admit it, to anybody, not even her.

"Still the addict." The man continued, baiting Sherlock.

"You're wrong." Caroline ground out, growing very angry with the man. But the man continued on as if she hadn't spoken.

"But this…. this is what you're really addicted to, innit? You'd do anything. anything at all… to stop being bored."

Sherlock raised his hand to bring the pill closer to his mouth, the killer doing the same as he still spoke on. "You're not bored now are you? Innit good?"

A gunshot rang out and the bullet that broke through the window went through the left side of the mans chest and imbedded itself in the door behind him. As he fell to the floor, Sherlock dropped his pill in surprise, not of the man being shot, but of Caroline who had immediately pulled a pistol out of her jacket and made her way through the shards of broken glass carefully. She checked the window to see if she could see the shooter, turning to Sherlock and shaking her head, telling him she couldn't. Sherlock staring at her in surprise. Their attention was interrupted as the man breathed heavily and coughed, drawing both of their attention to the rapidly dying man. Sherlock grabbed one of the pills on the floor and hopped over the desk, making his way over to the man. He thrust the pill into the mans face, who had a large pool of blood surrounding him.

"Was I right?" Sherlock asked. The man turned his head away in disbelief and didn't reply, he was dying and Sherlock was asking questions like this?

Sherlock angrily hurled the pill across the room and stood up, still facing the man.

"Okay tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one that told you about me- my 'fan'. I want a name." Sherlock said.

"No." The man weakly said.

"You're dying, but there is still time to hurt you." Caroline said, no emotion in her voice, grabbing both of their attention, "I told you my profession. I know the body inside and out. I could cut you open and pock and prod at you all while still keeping you alive, even with you bleeding out. Give him and name and I won't do that."

The man still refused, making Sherlock sigh angrily, opting for his own method instead of Caroline's. He stomped on the man's shoulder, leaving it on and adding pressure, enjoying as the man gasped out in pain.

"A name." Still the man only whined in pain, causing Sherlock to press harder.

"The name!" Sherlock yelled.

"Moriarty!" The dying man yelled, using the last bit of his strength. His head rolled to the side as he finished yelling. Sherlock stepped back and looked back at Caroline, who stared back at him, gun still in her hand. He mouthed 'Moriarty' to her in question, getting a shrug in reply.

~00~

Once the police had arrived, Sherlock and Caroline were brought to an ambulance to check for injuries as the policy went. The paramedic had put an orange around Caroline and was trying to put a blanket around Sherlock who kept refusing it. Caroline rested her head against Sherlock's shoulder, trying to calm the raging headache she was getting.

"Why have I got this blanket?" Sherlock asked Lestrade as the man walked over. "They keep putting this blanket on me."

"Yeah, it's for shock." Lestrade told him, before his attention to Caroline. "You okay Carry? You look pale and you're sweating. Low blood sugar?"

"Yea but not to low, I can make it home." Caroline told him reassuringly. Lestrade paid no attention to her and asked the paramedic to take her blood sugar and give her a cereal bar. Caroline smiled at him gratefully, and rose to turn to the paramedic, complying with him.

"I'm not in shock." Sherlock told Lestrade.

"I know but some of the guys want to take pictures." Lestrade grinned at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" Sherlock asked as Caroline joined him once more, enjoying the cereal bar.

"Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of the could have been following him but we got nothing to go on." Lestrade filled them in.

"Oh I wouldn't say that." Caroline said, smiling at Sherlock, knowing that he would have an answer. Lestrade rolled his eyes this time, he should have known Sherlock would know something.

"Okay, gimme."

Sherlock stood up, preparing to show off with Caroline at his side. "The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized danger, though, so strong moral principal. You're looking for a man with a history of military service…"Sherlock paused, seeing John Watson standing behind the police tape, looking like he was waiting for them. "… nerves of steel…." He trailed off once more, finally realizing who had killed the man, whose man he learned was Jeff Hope.

"Actually, do you know what? Ignore me." Sherlock told him, trying to brush off what he just said.

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked confused, the man was on a roll. Was Sherlock saying that he had gotten it wrong?

"Ignore all that. It's just the, er, shock talking." Sherlock covered up, pulling Caroline with him as he headed over to John.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade asked, confused.

"We just need to talk about the rent." Caroline called back quickly, coming up with an excuse though she didn't understand what Sherlock was doing.

"But I've still got questions for the two of you." Lestrade told them.

"Oh what _now_?" Sherlock cried out in frustration, "I'm in shock! Look I've got a blanket!" Sherlock held up one corner of the blanket, reminding the detective.

"Sherlock!"

"And I've just caught you a serial killer." Sherlock then remember the serial killer _was_ dead and couldn't actually pay for his crimes, "More or less."

"Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go." Lestrade said after a minute.

Caroline led Sherlock away, taking his hand and pulling him in the direction of John, like a five year old pulling their parent to the toy they wanted. Lestrade smiled at her antics, knowing that Caroline only did that for Sherlock's amusement. Said it was a women's trick or something like that.

Sherlock took the shock blanket from his and Caroline's shoulders and bundled them and threw them into the open window of a police car and lifted up the police tape for Caroline and him to walk under.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful." John said, looking at them as Sherlock wrapped an arm around Caroline's waist and as she did the same.

"Good shot." Sherlock said quietly. Caroline looked up at Sherlock in shock before looking back at John, so that's why he tried to cover for the shooter.

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window." John tried to act innocent but Sherlock and Caroline saw through his façade.

"Well, _you'd_ know." Sherlock said to John looking at Caroline who nodded to him, she knew what he was talking about.

John tried unsuccessfully to not give away anything by his facial expression. But he knew that Caroline and Sherlock knew anyway.

"Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case." Caroline said softly, "Once we get away, I have something that could help at the flat."

John cleared this throat and looked around to see if anyone was watching them, but no one was.

"Are you all right?" Caroline asked him.

"Yes, of course I'm all right." John reassured her.

"Well, you _have_ just killed a man." Sherlock pointed out, looking down at Caroline as she rammed her elbow into his stomach and gave him a look that said 'Really?'.

"Yes, I.." John trailed off, smiling. "That's true, innit? But he wasn't a very _nice_ man."

Sherlock continued to look at John carefully, pulling Caroline closer to him unconsciously. While John was a great man and was good enough to keep up with himself, he didn't trust many people with Caroline. Caroline has been his best friend since he was a child, and he considered his. His best friend, his only friend, she was the one who would always be there for him. She was gentle and was patient with him and was always there to defend him. (Even though he could do that himself, he loved to see her do it as well) There would never be another person that could compare to Caroline and that's the reason why he could never let her get harmed. The six months she was away was the loneliest time for him, it was the longest she had ever been away from him. They went to the same primary school, high school college and they went to the same University together. While he was getting his degree in University, he went and got an unnecessary Doctorate just so he could stay in the University with her. Sherlock based his entire career around her, so he could be there whenever she needed him, like she always dropped everything to help him. If Caroline got hurt, Sherlock wouldn't know what he would do. Murder the person that had hurt her or loose his mind and do something stupid and that would make her disappointed in him. Sherlock strived to be a person that Caroline could be proud of, almost everything he had done in his life was to impress Caroline.

"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?" Caroline said, looking up at Sherlock and smiling at him. Snapping out of his thoughts, he quickly looked back at John, who was smiling softly as he picked up the small displays of affection between the two.

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie." John said, chuckling. He was relieved that Sherlock or Caroline wouldn't turn him in.

"That's true. He _was_ a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!" Sherlock said he began to lead Caroline away, going to make their way home. Using his free hand to gesture for John to follow him. All three of them laughed at Sherlock's comment, a few of the police officers looked over to them before turning back to what they were doing.

"Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!" John scolded them.

"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me." Sherlock said, teasing.

"Keep your voice down!" Caroline scolded them both, but was smiling anyway.

Sergeant Donavan passed by them, looking over at them suspiciously. "Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think." John tried to reassure her.

Sherlock had apologized, looking down at Caroline to see her looked at Donavan with a poker face. She wouldn't apologize or try to make excuses, Caroline couldn't care less what Sergeant Donavan thought. That women put down Sherlock every chance she had, and though she knew Sherlock didn't pay attention to it Caroline couldn't help but dislike the women.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?" John said after they had passed Donavan.

"Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up." Sherlock waved off, but both Caroline and John knew that he wasn't telling the truth.

"No you didn't. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever." John said, not letting Sherlock walk away from this.

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked, looking at John as he waited for his answer.

"Because you're an idiot." John told him. Sherlock smiled at John before looking at Caroline and squeezed the arm he had around her waist. Caroline copied Sherlock, realizing that he was happy that he had found another person that could understand Sherlock.

"Dinner?" Sherlock asked them both.

"Starving." John said, looking over at Caroline who nodded in agreement. The three of them began to turn and walk away from the crime scene.

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two." Caroline told them.

"You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle." Sherlock offered, giving them both a bit of information.

John laughed at Sherlock, of course he would know that. A man managed to catch his attention that sat at the corner of the street in plain sight. "Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about."

"I know _exactly_ who that is." Sherlock said angrily, marching over to the man, leaving Caroline behind. John was surprised as Caroline sighed tiredly, as if this was a regular occurrence (as far as he knew, maybe it was), and muttered 'Not again.' before she marched over to the two men as they began to engage in a conversation. John stayed behind, close to the police if he needed to call to them to intervene.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited," The man said pleasantly, "though that's never really your motivation, is it?"

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, untensing as Caroline came up behind him and rested a hand on the small of his back. Her touch always managed to calm him.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you." The 'arch enemy' said.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'." Sherlock said sarcastically, still angry with the man. Caroline remained silent, rubbing Sherlock's back in circles to calm him down once more.

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" The man asked.

"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock said to the man.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy." John looked at the two in confusion, wondering if he heard them right. He looked over to Caroline who looked unaffected by the words, maybe he had heard them wrong.

"_I_ upset her? Me?" Sherlock cried out as the man glowered at him. "It wasn't _me_ that upset her, Mycroft."

"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?" John asked, unable to stay silent any longer. He was _way_ to confused.

"Mother – our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft." Sherlock introduced the man, his brother- Mycroft. Looking back to Mycroft, "Putting on weight again?"

"Losing it, in fact." Mycroft replied quickly, used to his brother's jabs.

"He's your _brother_?!" John cried out, still mildly confused.

"Of _course_ he's my brother." Sherlock told him.

"So he's not…" John trailed off, slightly embarrassed at what he perceived the man to be.

"Not what?" Caroline asked, curious.

"A criminal mastermind." John said embarrassed.

"Close enough." Sherlock glared at his brother disapprovingly, but stopped to look at Caroline as she let her hand drop and found her glaring lightly up at him.

"Stop that Sherlock." She scolded, "You need to be nice. I don't care what he did. Be nice."

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government." Mycroft protested, not seeing why Sherlock was overreacting.

"He _is_ the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis." Sherlock said to John.

"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic." Sherlock ended the conversation, slightly upset at Caroline scolding him like a child and walked away. Caroline sighed at his behavior and bid goodbye to Mycroft before catching up to Sherlock and slipping her hand into his and she talked to him.

John started to walk away, but turned to Mycroft. "So, when-when you say you're concerned about him, you actually _are_ concerned?"

"Yes, of course." Mycroft didn't turn to look at John, instead watching his brother and Caroline interact.

"I mean, it actually _is_ a childish feud?" John tried to clarify.

"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners."

"Yeah ... no. God, no." John said as he turned to leave, "I-I'd better, um…"

Before he could leave, he noticed the woman that had been with Mycroft. "Hello again."

"Hello." The woman looked up from her blackberry and smiled at John.

"Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening." John elaborated. The women looked at him, obviously not recognizing him.

"Oh!" She said in false recognziment.

"Okay, good night." John noticed her dis-interest and walked away, catching up to Sherlock and Caroline who were talking quietly between themselves.

"So, dim sum." John said, reminded them of the meal they were going to go eat.

"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies." Sherlock bragged, smiling at Caroline as she laughed.

"No you can't." John said, not believing the man.

"Almost can." Sherlock tried to convince him, "You did get shot, though."

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There _was_ an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder."

"Shoulder! I thought so."

"No you didn't."

"The left one."

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess."

"Yes you do." John laughed as Caroline rolled her eyes. He looked back over to see Sherlock smiling. "What are you so happy about?"

"Moriarty." Sherlock said vaguely.

"What's Moriarty?" John asked confused.

"I've absolutely _no_ idea." Sherlock said gleefully, loving the mystery.

~00~

It was late at night when Sherlock came to bed, but Caroline was still up, leaning against the headboard. Sherlock just stood in the entry way to their room, looking at her as she looked over a file, most likely for her work.

"When do you go back?" Sherlock asked her, referring to her work.

"I applied to the one in central London and was accepted so I'm going to go there in three days and start." Caroline said without looking up.

"So what are you looking at?" He asked as he walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers, getting into the bed but still sitting up.

"Just looking over the autopsy report that the old anthropologist did on the soldier." Caroline said as she laid the file down the nightstand. "Alright, ask me. I know you where surprised to see the gun on me."

Sherlock looked at her, that _had_ bothered him. He didn't know that she carried it, he couldn't tell. That's what bothered him, she didn't tell him that she was carrying one. "Why didn't you tell me? You know that I have no problem with it."

"Yes, you do Sherlock." Caroline said, "You don't like people defending you. You like to do that yourself."

"That's not true." Sherlock told her, turning to face her. "I don't like when anybody else defends me, but you. I love it when you defend me."

"Why?" Caroline asked, "You've had a problem with it before."

"Well, since you've been in Belgium, I realized that you defend me because you care."

"Took you 28 years Sherlock." Caroline said, laughing lightly, "Please tell me that wasn't when you realized that. That I care about you."

"No I've realized that before, but now I know that I care for you too. And now I can admit it, you're it for me Caroline. There is no one else." Sherlock said softly to her, letting her lean her head against his chest.

"I'm glad, because then the last 22 years would've been for nothing."

"I've cared for you since say 15." Sherlock said to her softly.

"I've cared for you since… geez I don't know the exact day." Caroline giggled, "You've always been smarter than me."

"I'd like to think I'm only 16% smarter than you." Sherlock said, laying down with his head on the pillow.

"Don't boast yourself that much," Caroline said as she reassumed her position, her head on his chest but this time laying down. "It's defiantly only 7%. I did _way_ better than you in college."

"Only in three subjects and by 2 points. And we didn't share all of the same classes." Sherlock pointed out.

"Okay," Caroline said slowly, "But I had a higher GPA than you in high school."

"Okay." Sherlock said, "Two out of five years."

Defeated, Caroline sighed. "Go to sleep Sherlock. It's been to eventful for me."

"Goodnight Caroline."

"Goodnight Sherlock."

A/N: I am so sorry for what has been the longest I have ever gone without updating on previous stories. There will never be a wait this long again. For the first two weeks after updating I had lost will to write but then I took time to plan out this chapter and wanted to continue writing but life got in the way. My dad is getting re-married and I had to help with the wedding and then For the past week, I've had to pack and my dad and I traveled to our hometown in Louisiana to visit my grandparents. Yesterday I finished this chapter and today I edited it.

On Monday I leave for a camp and will not be back until late Friday afternoon so there won't be an update until next week. But there will never EVER be a two month wait for an update again I can promise you. Two weeks at the most!

Reviews:

CaptainWilliamsN7: Thanks! Love that you like the story.

KD: A lot of planning and research went into creating Caroline so thanks!

ElijahMikealsonfan: Thanks so much! That defiantly gives me a boost of confidence in my writing skills! I'm glad you love Caroline : )

: Thanks, I'm glad you like Caroline. I can't exactly say whether I will or not because I haven't planned out that chapter yet, but I most likely won't. I'll probably just do a really fluffy moment between Sherlock and Caroline to make up for it.


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